


Kic some1 enuf n they wil nt get up

by vultvre



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23806705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vultvre/pseuds/vultvre
Summary: Another assignment for creative writing, yet I changed it into something personal. About pain, rage and forgiveness.
Kudos: 1





	Kic some1 enuf n they wil nt get up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> This story is very personal to me but I wanted to share it because I'm proud of it. Just please take caution in what you say.
> 
> Also, if you are reading it, (you know who you are,) then I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable. This is how I'm trying to cope. 
> 
> Enjoy, 
> 
> vultvre ☆

I woke up unaware of my surroundings. Once my vision came through, my stomach dropped as I saw who was in front of me. The man who broke me. I was almost over him, but seeing his face again just began to burn a hole through my heart. 

His wavy hair sat perfectly on top of his head. His lips formed a perfect shape, and his nose curved slightly. I stared at his large, thin body. He was wearing a pair of pants he once said would look good on me. I was regretfully admiring him. This was the first time I'd seen him in person. Ever. He was very beautiful and the photos of him didn't add up. I deleted them all out of anger and pain. Why did this have to happen as soon as I moved on? 

We were in a nearly empty room. It was completely white. If I'm being honest, I have no idea how I got here. I have no idea how he got here too. We sat on the opposite sides of the room, staring at each other. He hasn't spoken, and I didn't want him to. 

"James."

I didn't respond. I refused to. I did not want to talk to him.

My mind flooded with memories. I thought about the hours we spent playing a game, and on call. His dorky laugh every time he'd say something stupid. When he wrote sweet paragraphs for me to find, his voice became soft and tender when he realized how happy he made me. When we stayed up all night talking to each other. When we were too tired to form coherent sentences, but we forced ourselves awake because we never wanted to be separated. 

He was so caring. He always knew how to make me happy.

Then things started to change. He talked to me less. He had told me his ex had a child. It was his. Regardless, I loved and supported him. He still didn't talk to me. 

That one night he completely ignored me, I started to panic. My body started to shut down as he told me we shouldn't be together. He told me he did it because he loved me. That he didn't want to hurt me. That his problems would make things worse for me. All I needed was him. I needed someone to be there for me. He was the thing I loved most, and then he left. It felt like I had nothing.

He said he didn't want to do it. He said he wanted to be with me forever. 

Two weeks later, he had a girlfriend. 

I never knew it was possible to feel that hurt.

I came to realize he had lied. About everything. How could someone, who was so amazing to me before, do something that hurt me so badly. 

I had never felt this emotion so strong. It felt like my body was mangled from the pain. My limbs, broken and bones protruding. Every time he bragged about his girlfriend, it felt like my skin was ripping from the pressure. My body became nothing but a clump of bones and muscle.

Over time I tried to heal. It still hurt so bad. The pain I had turned to anger. He refused to delete the memories of me because he didn't want to let go of it. I was unbelievably offended. If he really cared about me that much, he wouldn't have done this to me. 

I hated him. I missed him so much. He gave me hope that wasn't there to begin with. When I had him, I was so happy. I had never felt like I truly deserved love. He made me believe that I was worthy of it. It was all a lie. He was lying. I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

My eyes were glazed over thinking about the past. My arms pressed my legs against my chest. The pain was coming back as I saw him. I refused to look at him now. 

He began to crawl towards me. My mind had too much to think about and it didn't know how to react. I wanted to leave, to get away from him, but I couldn't move. As soon as he reached me, he hugged me. My heart rate was confused. It stopped, then started again at full speed. 

"James." 

His voice was soothing. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I didn't want this. I didn't want him. Yet somehow, I felt happy. I felt like maybe things could be like they were before. Even though I was in so much pain because of him, he still knew how to make me feel safe. It was different, though. It hurt. It burned. But it felt so nice. 

My body was shaking as water poured down my face. He hugged me tighter. For a second, I felt calm. I felt okay. My soul began to melt into his. The warmth from his body started to put me to sleep. It was silent. It was a good silence. All I wished for was for him to hug me. To give me affection. I had never had any physical affection from him before. The whole time we were together, he was on the opposite side of the country. Now, I had him in front of me. His arms were wrapped around me. This was what I longed for. 

Rage began to seep into my veins as I remembered what he did. Envisioning myself bent over on my bed, choking on my own tears and leaking blood from open wounds. It only made it stronger. Slowly it flowed through my bloodstream; starting from my brain, to my arms and into my fingertips. Every memory fueled my anger. 

My fingers burned as I caught a glimpse of a knife in my hand. I fondled the sharp blade as the anger pulsated the fingers holding it. The only thing I could think about now was how much pain I felt. All the pain he made me feel. While I screamed in pain, he ignored every thought of me. He refused to admit to what he did.  
The rage made me blind. 

I focused on the metal in my hand. The handle fit perfectly in my palm like it was made for me. My sinuses ached from how hard tears were falling down my face. At that moment, I believed he deserved it.

The point of the knife broke into the skin, sliding upwards through his stomach, underneath his ribcage. He didn't let go of my body as the metal pierced his insides. His large hands clung onto my shirt. I felt drops of water fall onto my shoulders. 

At last he let go and fell backwards; his green eyes wide in shock and pain. I raised myself up onto my knees and watched over him. The pleading in his irises radiated remorse. He was screaming without using his mouth. It was his fault. He did this.

He lied flat on the ground and I sat on his knees. I watched his face and his body tremble. In one second, he felt immense pain. It was my fault. I did this. 

The anger dripped from my fingers faster than the blood from his abdomen did. In a rush, I held my face over his. I reached for his face and cupped his jaw with my hands. My tears stopped. 

I was face to face with the man I loved for the first time. Nothing was right about it. 

He raised his hand up, covered in blood, and he rested it against my cheek. 

He smiled softly, the green in his eyes radiating warmth. I stared at those eyes. I was never able to look into them. It's impossible to do over a video call.

"James," he repeated for the third time.

His voice was very hoarse and he spoke slowly. The thick layer of water in his eyes cleared as it slid out of his tear ducts. It's almost like his eyes were sparkling. 

"Yeah…?" 

"Kiss me." 

His face remained full of love as mine returned to nothing. 

"But.. you have a-"

"Just do it."

All of the hairs on my body raised in guilt. However, watching his eyes made it all go away. 

Just then, our lips met. He tasted like blood. He rubbed his thumb across my cheekbone. 

Our first kiss was on the brink of death. Everything was wrong, but it felt like it should've happened. 

Our lips met again, and we lingered onto the feeling for as long as possible. 

"I'm sorry," he said.

I didn't reply. Regret swirled through my mind.

Does pain always have to take place in order to own your mistakes?

His lips were curled in the corners so tightly. I can't believe I finally got to kiss them.

We came together as one, lying in a pool of red. Nothing was left to be said. 

I laid with him until he took his last breath. I watched his smile return to its blank slate.

We got closure, but was it worth it? Was it worth it to kill the one I loved?

Normally, when you get closure with someone, you can move on. It wasn't the same here.

After I had pain for so long, I had him again. 

Last time, it wasn't my fault. This time it was. 

My eyes drift to the knife floating within the pool of blood. With a weak arm, I reach for it.

Staring at my eyes through the reflection of the knife, all I see is a boy. 

I'm just a small, hopeless boy who became a murderer. 

Nothing will get better. I killed my last hope.

A tear falls on the blade and washes the blood away from my reflection.

I smiled softly at my love laying silently on the ground. 

"No, I'm sorry."

Holding the knife firmly, I shoved the blade as far into my wrist as I could get it. 

The pain was so strong that I screamed out in anguish. All of the tendons and veins in my wrist broke, and blood gushed out from the wound. The agony of the feeling made my body cold. A loud ringing started in my ears and black consumed my vision. I caught one last glimpse of him before my body fell.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was laying in bed. I was back in my room, in my own bed. I felt nothing but the soft blanket under my legs. I turned onto my side and noticed the pool of red liquid coming from my arm. 

Panic consumed my thoughts. 

All of it was fake. 

I never kissed him.

I never got closure. 

He probably hasn't even thought of me in the past week.

I began to cry as the physical and emotional pain set in. I was sobbing harder than I did that night. 

My body was falling asleep, tingling with the sensation of the static on tv. 

There was nothing I could do at that point. It was too deep to try to fix it myself, and I didn't want to seek out my parents. I've wanted this for so long. I'm going to let it happen.

At that moment I thought of everything. Every memory, every regret, every dream. 

I would no longer feel any more pain. 

I thank him for breaking me.


End file.
